


Time is on my side

by Katescharmedlife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bees, Bunker Sex, Dean Being Dean, Dreams, Driving, F/M, Guilt, Kind of wants to be Destiel, Kissing, M/M, Naked Destiel, Pre-Slash, Rowena Supernatural, Sam Being Sam, Sam is goofy but hot, The Impala - Freeform, Time Travel, Vampires, more dreaming, not quite destiel, rowena - Freeform, shipping Charlie and Sam, the bunker, yes there is sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-05-13 09:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5703307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katescharmedlife/pseuds/Katescharmedlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a little down time, even hunters, and possibly even angels.<br/>And you can only sharpen your knives so much, and there comes a point when a gun is almost too clean. And as for Dean’s baby, well she was built in the days when cars were made to last, and she rarely needed much outside of regular maintenance, and an occasional bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Ever Lasting

Time ever lasting,  


Everyone has a little down time, even hunters, and possibly even angels.  
And you can only sharpen your knives so much, and there comes a point when a gun is almost too clean. And as for Dean’s baby, well she was built in the days when cars were made to last, and she rarely needed much outside of regular maintenance, and an occasional bath.

 

Dean spent a lot of time on the phone, hushed conversations, making (mostly failed) attempts to set up clandestine meetings with various women he had collected over the years. Really, it was just out of boredom.

Charlie and Sam played their own super nerd hybrid version of Jeopardy! and Trivial Pursuit. It was difficult to keep up with them, and impossible to keep score. Charlie was fiercely competitive, and Sam would patiently argue his answer until she was so frustrated she would try to declare a tie, Sam sitting back and telling her she may as well concede the point if she wouldn’t defend it. Adding alcohol to the mix only made the confusion and scorekeeping worse.

Sam read all the time. No, really, all –the –time, according to Dean.  
“Yeah, I get it, you’re a man of letters, and I’m just a hunter, why should I expect you to lower your standards and slum around with me, I’m only your big brother.” He would say it in a joking, condescending manner. Sam saw right through this, and when Dean started to put his jacket on, heading out to play pool in town, Sam was right behind him, grabbing the keys to baby, saying,”If you’re drinking, I’m driving.”

Castiel came and went as he pleased, like a once feral house cat that wasn’t quite adjusted to domesticity. He would appear right next to, or behind Dean, sometimes speaking as if he were in the middle of a conversation, and Dean would pick it right up, no hesitation, like they had been talking for hours. One too many close calls had taught Castiel not to simply appear too close to Sam. Even in the protection of the bunker, Sam was still apt to jump out of his skin, a knife suddenly appearing in his hand.

There were nights when Sam would walk by the door to Dean’s room and hear the murmuring of two low, distinct voices, followed by a rumbling laughter. He would pause, smile and move on, knocking never crossed his mind.

 

Charlie spent more and more time at the bunker, hanging out with the brothers. She had a room she favored, next to Sam’s. Made her feel safe, she said. She and Sam spent quite a few late nights in the vast library together. He would walk her to her room in the middle of the night, and she would hug him goodnight, lingering long enough for him to kiss the top of her head. One night he held her longer than usual, running his hand through her soft red hair as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. She stiffened, but then relaxed into his arms. Her head nuzzling against his chest, she whispered to herself, ‘Bad idea’.

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot myself, sorry Charlie, really, uh, I, g’night,” Sam stuttered, his eyes on the floor. Charlie laughed, making Sam’s face fall even further.

“So suave, are you really Dean’s brother?” She looked all the way up into his eyes. His pupils were huge, rimmed in hazel.

Sam gave her a defeated look and turned to walk away, towards the door to his room, but Charlie reached up and grabbed him by the by the shoulder and said, “Hold up there, big guy. Sam, Sammy, it’s not that I don’t think your attractive, your just not my, .. type?” The question was not in her words but in her voice and her eyes.

“Yeah, I got it, Charlie, I’m barking up the wrong tree. Sorry, I just got carried away, it won’t happen again.” Blushing, he tries again to slink away.

She doesn’t release her grip on his shoulder. She whispers to herself again, ‘Very bad idea!’

She stands up on her toes to kiss him, only making it to the side of his mouth, thinking, ‘he’s just so pretty!’ And, ‘Very, very bad idea!’

Sam just looked at her with the most dumbfounded puppy dog eyes, while she ran her fingers through his hair, “Uh,” he whispered. That single syllable resonated in her somewhere below her navel.

“If I had an actual two by four, and hit you in the head with it, is there a chance that you would get the hint?”

She yanked him into her room, ignoring his protests of “Wait, Charlie, no,” and then “Oh, Charlie!” and no one saw either one of them again for the next 16 hours.

 

Dean was cooking breakfast and talking to himself. “This is the worst dry spell ever, I mean, like in the history of man, no one has ever gone this long without getting la…”

He is cut off by a nervously smiling Charlie and an awkward, but pleased looking Sam, as they walk into the kitchen, pretending that they did not just get up and come out together, murmuring good mornings, and pouring coffee.

Dean takes one look at the two of them and says “Really?” He looks from one to the other, and neither Charlie nor Sam will look him in the eye. “What the holy fuck,, and under my roof? You kids oughta know better.” “I hope you used protection,” he says to Charlie.

Sam screws his face up, starts to stand up, nostrils flaring, and sits back down as Charlie gently places her hand on his shoulder.

“So, what were you grumbling about Dean?” Charlie says with a smirk, sipping coffee.

“Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, Dean, really, what were you talking about?” Sam says with a matching smirk.

“Go ahead Sammy, rub it in, salt those wounds, while I suffer the tortures of the damned. Damn, I don’t even remember the last time I, was it Idaho? Arizona?”

“Three months ago, that little dive bar in New Mexico,” Sam says with disgust.

“Las Crucas, Brandy.” Dean says with a wistful smile. “Three months? Feels like forever. What am I doing wrong, am I losing my touch?”

There is the slightest ruffle of wings, and Castiel as standing just behind Dean, his hand resting on his shoulder.

“’Bout time you showed up, been pretty lonely around here for the last couple of days,” Dean says, looking at Sam and Charlie, enjoying seeing them both squirm.

“Dean, I was right here with you last night until well after midnight, did you manage to get some sleep this morning?” Castiel asked, in complete innocence.

“About your predicament,” Charlie looks at Dean, Castiel, and then Dean again. “Maybe, you’ve been barking up the wrong tree.”

Castiel’s face brightens, “Are we getting a dog?”

 

It is often quiet in between jobs, but it is rarely calm. Dean’s phone has been ringing constantly all evening. He finally silences it, and the next time it goes off, the buzz of the vibration is even more annoying than the ringing. He drops his phone into a waste basket and walks out of the library. 

Sam grabs the phone and starts after his brother, but before he catches up or can say something, he sees that there are over a dozen calls and texts, all from the same person. Crowley. The latest text is just a photo of Dean and Crowley, sitting at a bar together, clinking their beer glasses in a toast and smiling. Sam puts the phone back on the table and goes back to his reading. The phone goes off again with a text – ‘Squirrel, the triplets are free tonight. Come out and play,’ - and Sam reaches over and pushes it back into the trash.

Dean has been fighting with Castiel for about a day and a half. They had just finished a job when the argument began – werewolves, nasty and vicious, a large pack that had kicked the snot out of the brothers and left Charlie with a broken clavicle.

“Maybe you should start taking calcium,” Sam was saying to her across the table.

“Do you know what kind of responsibility that would be?” Dean was yelling, Castiel right behind him.

“Of course I do, I have done extensive research on the subject,” Castiel says with an air of authority.

“Yeah well, research doesn’t feed ‘em when you’ve been on a hunt in another state for a week. There’s a reason hunters don’t keep pets, too damn much responsibility.”

“Dean, why don’t you guys just go to the shelter and take a look around, you never know what you might find.” Sam says, trying to make peace in the kitchen.

“Fine, fine, but just don’t come crying to me when the damn thing starves to death, or when I have to shoot it for takin’ a crap in my baby. Cas, lets go.”

The moment the door closes, Charlie narrows her eyes at Sam and says, “Alone at last.”

 

Dean and Castiel return several hours later. Castiel has a soft blanket in his arms, with something wriggling around in it.

“Cas, that looks a little small to be a puppy,” Sam says as he walks in.

Castiel is smiling and holds up a little ball of jet black fur, and says “This is Pyewacket, and she’s not a puppy, Sam. Dean picked her out. There were plenty to choose from, but Dean insisted on her.”

Pyewacket looked up at Sam with eyes of the bluest sapphire. Sam just smiled and said, “I can’t imagine why.”

“I picked her because she has six toes, and she’s tough as hell, aren’t you, Pie?” Dean walks in with a giant container of cat food and a bag full of jingling, feathery toys, nursing six tiny bleeding scratches on his hand.

“24 toes, actually,” Castiel corrects him with a shy smile.

 

It happens after a bad hunt. A nest of vamps, their sire was a particularly beautiful dark haired female, who made the mistake of taking a liking to Dean. She told him she wanted to turn him and keep him as a pet. She managed to get one good bite in on him before Sam was able to cut her head off. When she slid her fangs into his neck, he felt his body go limp, and then stiff with excitement. He grabbed her and pulled her close to him, giving in to the hot, wet sensation of his blood leaving his body. It was nearly ecstasy, and then it was over as’ Thwop’, her head left her body, her fangs tearing open Dean’s neck as it fell.

Sam caught Dean as he lost consciousness, breaking his fall and ripping off a piece of his shirt to use on his neck, trying impossibly to stop the bleeding.

“Cas! Help, I need you now!” And suddenly, Castiel was right beside him, two fingers on Dean’s forehead, and the bleeding stopped.

It was a long quiet drive back to Kansas, back to the bunker. Sam drove while Dean slept in the back seat and Castiel rode shotgun. Dean’s body was healed, but his head was completely fucked up. Had he really enjoyed the bite from the monster? He knew it was something he had no control over, but he still felt guilty and disgusted with himself.

 

As I said before, it happens after a very bad hunt. The brothers are sitting in the kitchen of the bunker, Charlie and Castiel sitting with them, each nursing a slowly warming beer. Dean said he was exhausted and had to hit the sack. Sam and Charlie, hand in hand, said they were going to turn in too, “Hey, just remember, he was my bitch first,” Dean calls after them.

“Jerk,” they say in unison as they slipped into Sam’s room. 

“Well, that’s a change,” Dean says, smiling as he watched them, his left hand absently stroking the place on his neck where the vamp had bit him. Thanks to Castiel healing him, there would never be a scar there, and a dark part of Dean regretted this, as the slick feel of her fangs piercing his skin played over in his head.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel is standing to leave the kitchen. “I have research to do, call me if you need anything.”

Dean puts his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Cas, wait, I need you to, can you stay a while” Dean’s hand moves down Castiel’s arm, he grasps his hand and pulls him close. “Cas, could you stay with me, tonight?”

Castiel rests his forehead against Dean’s, his free hand gently moves to the back of Deans head. Of course, Dean, he whispers. “All you ever had to do was ask.”


	2. Time to play "B" sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more with feeling... A wee bit of Destiel action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little stolen dialog in this chapter, can you place it?

Dean took Castiel by the hand and led him in to his bedroom, paused, took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, pulling him in behind him and closing the door. Castiel’s face was stoic, observant, watching, as he stood at the foot of Dean’s bed.

Dean leaned in, his eyes closed and kissed the angel’s lips. Castiel, unblinking, his jaw responded out of reflex as Dean bit his lower lip.

“Ow, Dean, what was that for?” He said in surprise, putting his hand on Dean’s left shoulder, sending a shiver through him. 

Dean took a half a step backwards, “I just, I wanted to,” he looked down at his feet. “I just asked you to stay with me, Cas, I thought you understood…”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel cut him off, his smile warm and full of love. “I will stay with you and watch over you while you sleep, I am so glad you are no longer disturbed by it! I will always watch over you, even when I am not here with you.”

“No, Cas, that's not what I meant,” he says as he sits down on the edge of his bed, hands over his face.

“Oh, I understand, Dean. You need some help sleeping,” Castiel says as he places two fingers up against Dean’s forehead, and Dean is out cold for the next seven hours.

 

So, maybe it doesn't happen on this particular night, after this particular hunt.

 

Dean is in a deep REM sleep within minutes of Castiel knocking him out. He’s driving, Castiel is by his side, his hand resting on Dean’s knee, tapping along to 'Stairway to Heaven' playing on a cassette tape in the Impala’s stereo. They are driving on a long stretch of road, nighttime falls in moments, and the road ahead is dark with mystery, with nothing but headlights to guide them. Dean’s eyes grew heavy and his sight grew dim, he had to stop for the night. A motel appears up ahead and he pulls in and parks. There are already keys in his hand, and he knows there is no need to check in, they know him here, they are expecting him.

Dean and Castiel both exit the car and walk to their room without a word. It's always the same room, it's how they always know how to find each other. Wait, that's Sam, Sammy always knows where to stay, where to look, and where to be found.

Dean took Castiel by the hand and led him in to the room, paused, took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, pulling him in behind him and closing the door. Castiel’s face was stoic, observant, watching, as he stood at the foot the lone bed in the room.

Dean leaned in, his eyes closed and kissed the angel’s lips. Castiel, unblinking, his jaw responded out of reflex as Dean bit his lower lip.

“Dean,” Castiel says in a low growl.

“Cas, I'm so glad you're here, I need you man, I need you so much.”

"Of course, Dean, all you ever had to do was ask,” Castiel says as he returns Dean’s kiss. It's sweet and chaste, and over in a second, and it's all the encouragement that Dean needs to pull the Angel in close to him, pushing him against the door and slamming his fist next to his face, kissing him.

“Now you kiss me.” He says.

“I can't rely on…” Cas starts, looking down at his feet.

“Say ‘kiss me’,” Dean says to him.

“Kiss me.”

“Say ‘I want you’”.

“I want you.”

“Again,” Dean says.

“I want you, put your hands on me,” Castiel says, looking into his eyes, and Dean loses it all together, covering Castiel’s mouth with his. He pushes the angel’s coat off of his shoulders and pulls his tie loose. They spend a few needy minutes stripping each other of their clothes, until they are both down to their boxers an then tumble on to the bed together.

“Cas, you're so fucking perfect,” Dean says, straddling his hips.

“I'm whatever you need me to be, Dean.”

They hear a snort from the other side of the room.  
“Would you guys keep it down? I'm trying to sleep,” Sam says with a huff from the bed next to them.

Dean freezes and Castiel says “Don't worry, Sam is use to us. He’s known about us all along.”

“Known? Known what? Sammy?” Dean says, a look of shock on his face.

"Sam has known much longer than we have, really," Castiel says with a wistful smile.

“It's true, I've known for years, you have a profound bond, yada yada, you wouldn't understand, yada yada. Now shut up and let me get some sleep,” Sam says, turning to face away from them and pulling his pillow over his head.


	3. Still dreaming of Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is still dreaming, this could go on for a while. Or not.

Dean is desperate, he hasn't heard from Castiel in weeks. He's driven the Impala out to the burnt out remains of a long forgotten church in the middle of a meadow. He gets out and starts to pace and finally comes to a stop at the hood of the car and sits on it. “Cas,” he begins to pray, “I need you man, I need to know if you're ok.” There is the almost imperceptible flutter of wings, followed by a humming, a buzzing. Dean feels something light on his forearm and when he goes to brush it away, he sees it’s a bee, covered in pollen. He jumps and looks behind him and sees Castiel, his angel, sitting on the roof of the roof of his baby, completely naked and covered in bees. “What the fuck, Cas, what the holy fuck?” He yells in disbelief. “Bees?”

“Sorry, Dean, I didn't think you would notice.” Castiel sighs, and the bees are gone, but Castiel is still sitting on the roof of the car, completely naked. 

“Get your naked ass the hell offa my baby, Cas!” Dean is still yelling, but one he's shielding his eyes with one hand. In the blink of an eye, Castiel is standing inches from Dean, and yes, he's still naked. Dean touches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, looking down at his feet, “where's your clothes, Cas?” he says with resignation in his voice.

“The bees don't like them, Dean,” Cas says, rolling his eyes, “everyone know that bees don't like clothing.”

“Well, I like your clothes, Cas, I like em a lot,” Dean says, still looking at his feet, kicking the dirt a little. “Could you put em back on for me?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says, and he's dressed, right down to his crooked tie and trench coat. 

That's how Dean remembers it happening. But this isn't a memory, it's a dream. 

“Well, I like your clothes, Cas, I like em a lot,” Dean says, as he runs his eyes up Castiel’s body, stopping at his eyes.

“Do you really, Dean?” Castiel says in a low growl. 

"Cas, what are you doing? Can you just stop with the bees and the, the naked for a minute and listen to me?” Castiel ignores his words, places his hand on Dean’s left shoulder, setting off sparks under his skin, and Dean is trapped in Castiel’s porcelain blue eyes.

“You humans are an enigma, steeped in modesty,” Castiel begins, looking away from Dean, across the meadow. “You hide yourselves, shroud your bodies, and cover yourselves at every opportunity. And yet you have shown such a great appreciation and reverence for the human form,” he says as he pushes Dean up against the Impala. “You have carved statues out of marble, painted canvasses and cathedral ceilings in your own naked image. Don't you realize, you were created in His image? You should show some respect to your own body,” Castiel says, his tone suddenly angry, “and stop hiding the beauty of your naked form,” and in an instant, Deans clothes are gone, and he covers his junk with both hands. Castiel takes both of Deans hands into his own and looks into his eyes, “you are a tribute to my Father.” 

Castiel is so close, Dean can feel the heat coming off of his body in waves. “I have learned so much during my time here with you and your brother, but there is still so much I wish to understand. Can you help me, Dean?” Castiel pulls Dean close to him, their bodies warm and hard against each other.

“Yeah, yeah, I can help you, Cas,” Dean says in a thick, broken voice, trying to catch his breath. Dean looks at Cas’s lips and runs his tongue over them. They taste sweet, familiar. Castiel smiles and licks him back, and Dean goes in for a kiss, and tastes honey. Castiel tastes like raw honey, he tastes like pollen, and like the flowers in the meadow behind them, so sweet it makes the back of Deans throat ache.


	4. Someone to watch over me

Castiel decided it would be wise to stay by Dean's side as he slept. Yes, Dean had told him many times how creepy he found it when Castiel would stand over him while he was unconscious, but he was perplexed by Dean's behavior. The brief embrace and kiss that Dean had given him were completely out of character. Castiel was worried for his friend. His best friend, really, if angels could have best friends. 

Dean mumbled something in his sleep about bees, and Castiel drew nearer to his sleeping body. His sleep seemed calm, and although his heartbeat and respiration were a little bit elevated, he did not seem to be suffering from any kind of duress. He thought it might be prudent to take a look into his friend's dream, to ensure he was not suffering from a nightmare that he couldn't wake from. Castiel sat hesitantly on the edge of Dean' bed, he had never intruded on his friend's dreams, but this was an exception, he told himself. He gently place the back of his fingers on Dean's forehead, like a parent feeling for a child's fever. 

Castiel pulled his hand back away from Dean like he had burned himself. It was useless, the connection was made and couldn't be broken by simply ending the physical contact he had made. He saw everything. The memory of Castiel's mad beekeeper incident morphing into the fantasy playing out in Dean's dreaming mind. When Dean sighed "Cas," followed by a low moan, Castiel stood up straight and stepped back, a rare look of shock and surprise on his face. He was not shocked by hearing his name, this happened quite often when Dean was dreaming. He thought about all of the times he had stood sentry over a sleeping Dean over the years, and the countless times he had heard Him whisper his name. It was the context that took him aback. Was this how Dean felt about him? Was this a common theme in his dreams? 

As the rest of the dream began to play out, Castiel approached the side of the bed and sat back down. When he heard his name whispered again, he took one of Dean's hands and held it in both of his, closed his eyes and dreamed along with him.


	5. What happened that night between Charlie and Sam

Charlie and Sam

She couldn't believe she had had to forcibly drag Sam into her room. She knew he was awkward but this was really beyond her comprehension. He was acting like a virgin, or like he wasn't interested or comfortable with being with a woman. She pulled him into her room and kissed him.  
“Wait, Charlie, no,” he said pulling away from her, and when she stepped back from him and pulled her tee shirt off in one quick, well practiced motion, he just said, “oh, Charlie!” and pulled her close and returned her kiss, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing a fistful of her hair. She felt herself being lifted off the ground and spun around, landing on her bed, with Sam underneath her. 

She pulled her lips away from his, gasping for air. “Celeste,” she says.

“What?”

“Call me Celeste,” she says in his ear, “that's my real name.”

“Ok.”

“Say it, Sammy, say my name!”

Sam laughs into her neck, “Celeste, Celeste, Celeste,” he murmurs, and goes back to kissing her.

She can feel him below her, the heat, the want, the hardness of him. There is no turning back now, gone is the fumbling ineptitude that Sam showed on the other side of the bedroom door, and she's more than a little nervous. This is not her comfort zone, and he's so pretty, but he's also so very male, there are no soft curves about Sam, he is angles and plains and hard and urgent. 

He's pulled his shirt off, unbuckled his belt and started pulling her jeans off of her hips. “Slow down there, cowboy,” she pants in his ear, and he flips her onto her back, underneath him. He sits back, taking his jeans so quickly, she knows this is a well practiced move of his own. 

Charlie panics. “Wait, Sam, wait!” She puts her hands on his chest, pushing him off of her, even as he removes her jeans. “Stop, Sam, stop!” She pulls herself up into a ball at the head of the bed, and Sam just looks at her with the saddest wounded puppy dog look on his face.

“Oh my god, Charlie, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry!” 

He's sitting back on his haunches, in the middle of her bed, in nothing but boxers, and she's huddled at the head of the bed in her bra and underwear and she suddenly feels like a fool. “Can we slow down a little?” She starts to relax a little.

“Yeah, I'm sorry, I got carried away, I've just wanted this for so long, and I never thought you, you know, we're interested, what with the whole lesbian thing and all, and I…”

“Sam,” she cuts him off, “about that, I've never, um, never…”

“What,” Sam asks her.

“I've never, Sam, I'm a virgin, with boys, that is, I've never been with a guy.”

“Holy crap,” Sam says, sitting back and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah,” Charlie says in a little voice, “holy crap.”

Sam retrieves his jeans from the floor and starts to put them back on. “You were right in the first place, Charlie, this was a bad idea, and you clearly don't want to do this, and really, neither do I. I don't exactly have the best track record with women. I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.” He stands up and buckles his belt.

Charlie gets up and stands between Sam and the bedroom door and says “Sam Winchester, you better take those jeans back off right now, I'll have you know that when I said that this was a bad idea, I was talking to myself, not to you. And I do want to do this, with you, just at my own pace.”

Sam drops his jeans to the floor. “Ok, Charlie, you set the pace.”

“Celeste,” she says.

“What? Oh, yeah, Celeste,” he grins.

“Take your boxers off, I want to see what I'm getting into here.” Sam removes them, never taking his eyes off of her face as she drops her gaze. “No wonder they call you moose,” she blushes, he doesn't. “Lie down, Sammy, she says, unhitching her bra and tossing it on the floor. He lays on the bed and she straddles him, nothing but thin cotton separating them, and Sam can't help but to thrust his hips, making him groan. This is another sound that he makes, that she feels resonate somewhere below her navel, but lower this time. She gives her hips a little twist, making him suck in his breath.

“Take em off, Celeste, please take em off,” he tugs on the side of her panties. Sam’s hands grip her hips and pull her against him as he thrusts against the sheer wet fabric. 

“Slow the fuck down, cowboy, don't make me tell you again, this is at my pace.” As she says this, she moves Sam’s hands from her hips to her breasts, eliciting another low groan from him. “Do you have something? You know, some protection? I mean other than this,” she says, circling his tattoo with her finger. 

“Yeah, in my jeans, in my wallet.”

She hooks her feet under Sam’s thighs and bends low to the floor to grab his jeans.

“Oh, jesusfuckingchrist, Charlie, Celeste, fuck!” His hands are on her hips again, his head thrown back. She pulls his wallet out and hands it to him.

Get it out, and it had better not be, you know, like ten years old or something.”

“Yeah, don't worry, it's good, probably only like seven years old,” he smiles at her as he pulls it out and tosses his wallet on the floor. He sets it on his chest and starts to pull her panties off of her hips. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” she says, still holding his jeans, and she pulls his belt out of the loops, tosses the jeans and snaps the leather together.

“Whoa, that's not what I was hoping for,” Sam says holding his hands up to her.

She snaps the belt again and says, “now that I have your attention, if we're going to do this at my pace, then I'm going to need to do this,” and she catches both his wrists in the loop of the belt and clinches it closed so quickly that he doesn't know whether to be impressed or worried by her. Sam squirms and she decides she really likes that. She runs her nails over his torso, over his chest and he twitches and squirms some more, she bends forward and kisses him as he slowly thrusts against her, now it's her turn to moan. She unhooks her feet from Sam’s thighs and straightening her legs, shimmies out of her cotton panties, tossing them to the floor with the rest of their clothing. “Hands up, Winchester,” she tells him, and he puts his hands, still bound, above his head. She straddles his thighs and tears open the condom, fumbling for a moment, trying to remember her sophomore year human sexuality class, and then unrolls it onto him. She sits up on her knees and slowly eases her body onto his, his into hers and he gives her another ‘Oh, Charlie, oh Celeste, oh fuck,’ and she moves on him, with him. He pulls his hands out of the belt and wraps his arms around her, kissing her.

“Are you ok,” he asks, gently thrusting into her.

“Yeah, oh, yeah, Sammy, it's so good,” and her words are lost into his neck and shoulder. Holding her tight, he locks his legs around her and rolls them over. She’s on her back now, and he's still inside of her, above her now. 

“Do you trust me, Celeste?” She bites her lower lip and nods her head. “Say it.” He's pulling away from her, almost completely out of her. 

“I trust you, I do,” she says, panting. 

“My pace now, Celeste.” He reaches behind her, hooking his fingers around her shoulder and slides his right hand down between them and she feels his adept fingers on her, making her stomach flip and her back arch. The hand on her shoulder tightens, giving him the leverage he needs as he begins to thrust into her, harder and deeper each time until she is teetering on the edge.

“Oh, Sam!” 

“Hold on tight, Celeste,” and his wet fingers are giving her just the push she needs to go over that fragile edge, and when he feels her loose it, he follows her into the abyss.


	6. Just an average night in the bunker

Just an average night off in the bunker.

Sam parks the Impala and gathers up the greasy white bags loaded with burgers and fries and heads in to the bunker. He heads to Dean’s room and stops short when he sees the corn silk blue tie hanging on the doorknob. He snatches up the tie and kicks on the door.

"Really, guys, What the fuck?" He says, really pretty pissed off, "open up, my hands are full."

The door opens immediately, "just messing with you, Sammy, try not to be such a little bitch," Dean says as he relieves Sam of a greasy bag.

Castiel is sitting in front of the TV in Dean’s room, "Hello Sam, may I have my tie?" He says, with a shy smile.

Sam hands Castiel his tie heads out to the kitchen and sets the food down on the table.

"C’mon, Cas," Dean says, and they follow Sam.

Sam crinkles his nose, "Jerk," he says to Dean. "You, too," pointing at Castiel, "you’re both jerks." Castiel chuckles, yes, he gets this little joke of Dean’s, and blushes at the implications of it, the tie on the doorknob, and he is secretly pleased that he was on the inside of the joke this time, and that he had officially achieved 'jerk' status.

Castiel begins to fumble with his tie, and Dean automatically goes to him, stands directly behind him and expertly ties it around Castiel’s collar.

Sam notes that this action took place without any precursors or thanks between them. There is a level of familiarity between them that is more than what meets the eye. He wonders, not for the first time if they really do have a thing going on between them, sometimes they act like an old married couple.


	7. To bury Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nights in the bunker are worse than others.

Sam is sitting in the kitchen of the bunker, just lost. Charlie’s death hasn’t quite hit home as real with him yet. Dean has gone into the basement of the bunker to gather up the supplies they will need to give her the hunters burial that she deserves. 

“Let’s go,” Dean says to him, pulling him out of his stupor. They head out to the Impala, where Charlie’s body is waiting for them. It’s a short drive out to the woods, Dean stops and parks when he feels he has found a place he thinks she would have liked. They take the salt and gasoline out of the back seat and pop the trunk to retrieve Charlie’s body. 

They walk to the back of the car. Sam stops, "it's my fault." 

"No argument there," Dean says.

"I can fix this."

"Don't you fuckin dare," Dean says.


	8. A deal with the devil's mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things we do out of desperation, and when Sam went to the witch and why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken on a life of its own, but I promise you, it definitely has a direction and an end goal.

When he went to the witch, and why. 

After Charlie was killed, Sam was wracked with guilt and remorse. It was his fault, he knew, but not for just the reasons that Dean has blamed on him. He never should have let himself fall for Charlie, he knew better than to have hope. He knew that he couldn’t just fall in love with a girl and expect her to survive it. He was cursed, and Charlie had paid the price for it.

“I need a blood spell,” he says to Rowena. 

She laughs and says, “and just what would you be needing that for, my boy?” Looking him up and down. “Did you get yourself into a wee bit of trouble with a girl?” Sam’s nostrils flair as he grits his teeth at her. “A boy then? Come, now Sammy, tell Rowena what you’ve gone and done.”

“None of your business, witch,” he says. 

“Well, I’m afraid it is, you great big moose, if you want my help with a bun in the oven, or, whatever you’ve gotten yourself up to, the price is your story. Oh, I cross my heart, and promise never to tell a single soul, Sammy dear.”

“Fine. It’s Charlie. She’s dead because of me, and I need to make it right.” 

“Oh, Dean’s really gotten into your head on this hasn’t he? You know, she was a grown woman, making her own choices. Even if you hadn’t asked her to, she still would’ve done what she done, she was a hunter, after all, and, my boy, what she went through in Oz? You have not the half of it heard. She was a warrior, and warriors die young. In other words, she knew the risks.”

“No, Rowena, you don’t understand. It had nothing to do with helping me find a cure for Dean. It’s me, it’s because I’m cursed. Every woman I have ever loved has died. I need to go back and stop it, stop us from ever happening.”

"Very well then, I’ll help you, but it won’t be easy, and a blood curse is not what you’re needin. No sigils and angelic mumbo jumbo will fix what you’re trying to undue. You don’t need to go jumping back in time, what you need is to jump back into yourself, and correct your mistake before you go and make it. The tricky part is, not doing the same thing all over again, and you will be tempted, Sam, mark my word. It’ll be the hardest thing you ever do, because time does not like to be fiddled with. Are you strong enough to do what’s right, instead of what your heart is crying out for?”

Rowena looks into Sam’s eyes and sees the pain, the fury, the loss. But she's not interested in that. She sees something else, something evil lurking there, and that is what draws her to him. She's not sure what it is, but she wants to find out. He's just a boy, and she's a 400 year old witch, but she was also a woman, and a woman has needs. 

She'll help him, of course she would, out of the goodness of her heart, no less. If he could fall in love with a demon, why couldn't he fall for a witch? 

She would send him on a wild goose chase to find for a few ridiculous supplies for a spell, give him a thunder and lightening show, and then do a simple astral projection back in time for him. 

He doesn't need to know that it's one of the easiest things a seasoned witch like her could do, or that it never really changes the course of events, not the big ones, anyway, not in any meaningful way.

He swore he would never do it again, but this was for Charlie, and he owed it to her. Rowena gave him a cup filled with a vile mixture. "Take your medicine, Sam, so you can set this right by that girl." It smelled like weeds, dirt, and underneath the coppery scent of the blood, that old familiar sulfur kick. "Steel yerself, boy, and drink it down," she coaxed.

He tried to drink it all at once, but it was thick and foul and he barely managed to choke it down. He sat down heavily, and after a few minutes, the room began to spin, and he was out. "That's it, sleep, my sweet boy," Rowena whispered in Sam's ear, stroking his hair with her fingers. "Now go, and unfuck yerself." She picked up the empty cup, still dripping demon's blood. The demon's blood had no real purpose; she had mixed in a few harmless but smelly herbs, including valerian root, ensuring that he would sleep well after his brief walk into the past.


	9. And what didn't happen one night between Sam and Charlie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more, without feeling...

Sam finds himself standing in Charlie's room, she's just taken her shirt off and thrown it on the floor. 

"Oh, Charlie," he says, struggling to adjust to his surroundings. Every inch of him wants him to take her into his arms and kiss her, hold her. And then, he remembers. Remembers why he is here, again, and how he has to set things right. Charlie, he has to save her, save her from himself. 

And then, "Oh, Charlie. I’m really sorry, Charlie, I forgot myself, I really can’t do this, please put your shirt back on." Sam hands it to her and turns to walk out the door. 

Charlie feels a wave of deja vu that leaves her head spinning. "Woah, Sam, what the frack was that?" She sits back on the edge of her bed. "I swear, we’ve done this before, but it’s different this time, somethings wrong. Sam what’s going on?" 

"Nothing, Charlie, there’s nothing going on, and there’s nothing wrong this time, and that’s how it’s going to stay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, not again." 

"What are you talking about, Sam?" 

"Charlie," Sam begins. "Celeste," he continues, gaining her full attention, "nothing good will come of this, nothing ever does. I can’t explain any more, just please, please don’t hate me."

Charlie looks at him, he's not sure if she's angry or hurt. "What the holy frack, Sam, are you kidding me?"

Sam's body stiffens, he stands as tall as he can, towering over her, "we just can't do this, this was a mistake." He steps away from her.

Sam opens her bedroom door, "I'm sorry, Celeste." He walks out of her room and into his, locking his door behind him.

Of course, it’s never the same after that night of haves and have nots. Sam’s memory of both paths is crystal clear. Charlie is hurt, she knows what happened, but she has a residual lingering dream like memory of what might have happened, and the happiness that it would have brought to the both of them. 

Their late night study sessions are cut short as soon as there is a possibility that they may be left alone with each other, and their nerd game nights end all together. Charlie isn’t hostile or angry with Sam, she’s just hurt. Really hurt, broken hearted hurt. And she can’t figure out why. One quick kiss and suddenly she feels as though she has lost her soul mate. 

And to make it worse, on the surface, Sam behaves like it never even happened. He’s is just as kind and brotherly to her as he ever was, but he makes sure that they are never, ever alone. Sometimes she feels his eyes on her, and when she turns to look at him, there is no indication that he was ever looking her way, but she knows, she has no doubt about what she is feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened that night, and then what didn’t, and why. A short but necessary rewrite of this chapter. Comments are always welcome!


	10. Charlie's POV

Nothing was ever the same in the bunker between Sam and Charlie after the night she had overstepped her boundaries. 

She missed his company more than she ever thought she would, and she knew it was her own stupid fault. She told herself she didn't know what it was about him. She had never been attracted to boys, men, males of the species, or whatever. Was it just that he was so dang pretty? No, because he really wasn't pretty. Dean was pretty, lips like a girl, dreamy green eyes that you could just lose yourself in... But Sam, he was, if she was honest with herself, just very male, the very definition of handsome. Breathtakingly so. And smart, so damn smart, she never had to explain an idea or a concept to him. 

She was embarrassed for making such a wanton pass at Sam, she should have known better. She knew he thought of her as a little sister, and she should have been more than happy with that. Sam and Dean treated her like family, and she knew the Winchester brothers put a high value on their chosen family, and she was ashamed to have put that at risk. She swore she would repair the damage that she had done, she would find a way to make it right with Sam.

When Sam began searching in earnest to find a cure for the Mark, he became obsessed, but he didn't even bother to ask Charlie for her help. Instead, he relied on Rowena to work on deciphering the book of the dead. It broke Charlie's heart, all she wanted to do was help, and somehow make it up to Sam for her big, stupid mistake. 

She met with Castiel and Rowena behind Sam's back, assisting them in their search for the cure for the Mark on Dean's arm. The translation of the text was surely the key, and no one had the skills that Charlie had when it came to breaking codes. It all started to fall into place, decipher the codex, and translate the book. She worked tirelessly, and finally, she had it, and she couldn't wait to show Sam. But she never got the chance.


	11. Sam's POV

Nothing was ever the same in the bunker between Charlie and Sam after the night that didn't happen. His memory contained both versions of that night with her, and both versions wracked him with guilt. He never should have made a pass at Charlie, he knew better. He was cursed. She was smart and beautiful, clever, and he loved the way she made him laugh and he loved her company. He loved her. And he fucking knew better.

He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he could be more like his big brother. Dean was happy with the one night stands he seemed to find in almost every little town they stopped in. Not that Sam hadn't had his fair share, it just left him empty, always wanting more.

He hated avoiding Charlie, she didn't deserve it, and he couldn't explain to her why he had to stay away from her. He knew his actions hurt her, but he'd rather hurt her, even lose her friendship altogether, than see her dead. Let her think he was a jerk. He deserved it. Better to be hated by a live girl, than be in love with a dead one.

When Sam began searching in earnest to find a cure for the Mark on Dean's arm, he became obsessed, but he didn't dare ask Charlie for help. Instead, he relied on Rowena to decipher the book of the dead. It broke Sam's heart, he knew that she wanted to help him, but he didn't dare take the chance of her being killed because of his big, stupid mistake.

Sam had no idea that Charlie had been drawn into working with Castiel and Rowena, assisting them in their search for the cure. The translation of the text was surely the key, and no one had the skills that Charlie had when it came to breaking codes. It all started to fall into place, break the codex, and translate the book. She worked tirelessly, and finally, she had it, and she couldn't wait to show Sam. But she never got the chance.


	12. Rowena

When Sam saw Charlie’s body crumpled in the bathtub, covered in cuts, scratches and blood, he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. Dead, again, and all because of him.

 

“You lied to me, you witch, and she’s dead, she’s still dead!” 

“No, Sam, I did no such thing! Please Sam,” Rowena begged, trying not to show the abject fear she felt. She could abuse and manipulate the king of hell, but this boy, and the untapped power he unknowingly possessed, terrified her to her bones.

“I went back, Rowena, I went back and I changed, I stopped it, I didn’t let it happen this time, I made it right!”

“Do you still love her, Sam?” Rowena said, throwing her head back, her eyes narrowing. She may have been half his size, but she still managed to look down at him, make him feel small and helpless.

“That’s none of your fucking business, witch,” he sneered.

“No, maybe not, but I think there’s maybe a bit more to this blasted curse of yours than just the sins of the flesh. That girl isn’t dead just because you had sex with her, Sammy, I think she’s dead because you were in love with her.”

Sam pushed his hair out of his face, and sat down hard. "Is there a way to break this curse?”

Rowena bit back on the triumph she felt. Sam sat in front of her in despair, utterly broken, tears in his eyes. She put on her sweetest, most sympathetic smile and went to him, patting his hair. 

“Sweet boy, I don’t know, but if there is a way to break this vile curse of yours, I swear to you I will find it.”

Sam, wracked with guilt and self-loathing, fought back a sob, and Rowena put her arms around his neck, pulling his face in to her abdomen. Sam wrapped his arms around her and let her hold him, while she stroked his hair and soothed him. “There, there, my little love, I promise you, I will find a way to help you,” her eyes narrowed as she stroked a hex bag tucked in her pocket. She gently placed a kiss on his forehead. Sam clutched her and continued to sob. She took Sam’s head between her hands and looked into his eyes and brushed the tears off of his face with her thumb. 

She felt the hex bag shift in her pocket, like a living thing. Boy or not, she thought, this Winchester brother may be stronger than she expected.

Rowena pushed Sam back down, and he complied without resistance, and she straddled his thighs. He looked at her with heavy lidded eyes, and she watched his will slowly drain out of him. 

“That's it , my dear love, let Rowena take care of you,” she kissed him again, and he pulled her to him.

“Sammy, I could take yer pain away, I could help you, if you’d let me,” she placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

“What, no, I don't want the pain to go away, all I want is to have her back, alive.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and moved to stand, pushing Rowena away from him. He walked to the door, dismissing the witch.

"Come back here, Samuel, don't you walk away from me!"

"There's nothing you can do for me, I never should have come to you in the first place," he said, as he walked out the door.

Rowena was furious.

“Oh, my dear, I'm sure now that you'll be needing something far stronger than magic to make that happen. You'll be needing an act of God, and he’s not exactly been in the picture lately.”

Ruby, his demon lover, was long since dead, and relegated to the foulest depths of hell. But wasn't Rowena’s son the King of hell? She had to find a way to make this work to her advantage. 

 

“I want a favor from you son,” Rowena says with her sweetest smile. 

“And people in hell want ice water,” Crowley says with a twinkle in his eye. “And what will you do for me in return, mother dear? Oh, wait, there's nothing you can do for me, because the only thing I could ever possibly want from you is your absence. Leave me alone, witch, I have work to do.”

“Now, Fergus, hear me out before you go denying your poor old mother such a simple request. It's such a small thing, really. I'm looking for a young woman I knew many years ago, she owed me for a spell I gave her. I was hoping to find her and make her pay her pound of flesh. When I'm done with her, she's all yours. Besides, it will keep me busy in this dreary, tedious place.”

“Very well, mother, have your fun. Anything to keep you out of my hair for even a little while."

And that's how Rowena met Ruby.


	13. Does she, or doesn't she?

Sam is sitting in the kitchen of the bunker, just lost. Charlie’s death hasn’t quite hit home as real with him yet. Dean has gone into the basement of the bunker to gather up the supplies they will need to give her the hunters burial that she deserves. 

"Let’s go," Dean says to him, pulling him out of his stupor. They head out to the Impala, where Charlie’s body is waiting for them. It’s a short drive out to the woods, Dean stops and parks when he feels he has found a place he thinks she would have liked. 

They take the salt and gasoline out of the back seat and pop the trunk to retrieve Charlie’s body. As they walk to the back of the car, she sits up and looks at them, "What’s up bitches?" She says, her eyes flashing to black.

 

Dean pulls a gun from the back of his pants and aims it at the demon. "Get the fuck out of her you goddamn monster!"

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s arm immediately. "Stop, Dean, stop, it, it’s Ruby!" Dean lowers the gun for a second and looks at his brother, then raises it again.

"Fuck this," Dean says, and shoots, but Sam is faster than he is, and pushes him to the side. The stray bullet goes into his baby, through the trunk, back window, and lodges in the driver’s headrest.

"Heartwarming welcome there, Dean, I missed you too." Ruby looks up at Sam, holds her hands out to him and gets out of the trunk with his assistance. Dean looks on in utter disgust.

"We are not letting that thing stay in Charlie’s body," Dean says to Sam. 

Sam reels around to Dean, pushing Ruby behind him, "I won’t let you kill her, Dean, I can’t go through that again."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sammy? That’s not Charlie, that’s a demon, and it’s using Charlie’s corpse, open your eyes, Sam, that thing needs to die." 

Ruby wraps her arms around Sam’s waist and they vanish. 

"Sammy, Sam!" Dean yells to no one. Cursing, he packs the supplies into the now empty trunk and drives back in the direction of the bunker.

 

As soon as the Impala is out of sight, Sam and Ruby reappear, exactly where they were.

Sam turns to her, "What was that, what did you just do?"

"Cloak of invisibility, I think? I don’t even know what that means, there's some odd mojo going on in this body." 

"Ruby, you know how wrong this is, how completely fucked up it is, right?"

"I know," she says, searching his eyes for anger, as she wraps her arms around him again.

"Stop it, don’t, just don’t touch me," he says, pushing her away from him. 

"Hey, I didn’t kill her, I’m not responsible for her death, Sam," she says, and he feels the implication of her words, 'I’m not responsible, but you sure are.'

Sam’s face twists into a snarl, his eyes flashing at her.

"I’m sorry, that was cruel of me, and…"

"What do you want, Ruby?" Sam cuts her off. "And what do you want with Charlie’s body? Or did you just see an opportunity and grab it? You should have known you couldn’t fool me, I would recognize you anywhere," he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, and then shoving her from him.

"Woah, Sam, I’m not trying to horn in on whatever you and this skinny little red head had going on. I didn’t do this, all I did was wake up in this body, in the trunk of that ’67 piece of crap. I’m as confused as you are." She steps toward Sam, placing her open hand on his heaving chest.

"Why should I believe you?" He says through clenched teeth.

"I don’t know, maybe cus I’ve been dead for six years, and no longer even have a horse in this race? Sam, I’ve been in hell, you know, Old Testament hell, I think you know the neighborhood?"

She steps closer to him, and slides the palm of her hand up his chest to his neck.

Sam grabs her by the wrist, pulling her hand away from his neck, squeezes his eyes shut, and jerks her in to him, wrapping his free hand in her hair, eyes still closed, "Ruby, I’ve missed you so much." He buries his face in her hair, and breathes in deep, he smells Charlie, her shampoo, and sulfur, and his face twists in pain.

Sam pushes her away, so hard and fast that she falls to the ground, and he stalks off in the direction of the bunker. "Leave me alone, Ruby, if Dean or I see you again, we’ll kill you." He says as he breaks in to a run, without looking back at her.


	14. Ruby

Ruby could feel the low humming of an untapped power in her limbs. She had no memory of how she ended up in this corpse, in the trunk of the Winchester's big, black Impala, but she had a pretty good idea of who was behind it. 

"Crap, I hate witches," she thought. Rowena, the witch in question, had plucked her out of hell like a cat toying with mouse, going on loudly about revenge and getting what she was owed. Ruby had never even met this witch before, and had no idea why she was ranting on about their alleged past. Rowena had tossed a hex bag at her, sending her cascading into a pit of darkness that went on forever. That was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the body of this skinny woman in a dark airless trunk, the words "Merry Christmas" on her lips as she opened her eyes. Moments later, the trunk flew open and low and behold, her favorite Winchester brother, the tall one, was standing over her, followed by her least favorite Winchester brother, the pretty one. For some inexplicable reason, she found herself saying "what up, bitches?" That's when Dean pulled out a gun and aimed it at her heart.

 

Ruby took a few hesitant steps in the direction Sam had run off in, and stopped. "Fuck this, and fuck him." There was something intriguing about this body, and she figured it would be easier to explore it without the help or hinderance of Sam and Dean. So here she was, stuck in the middle of who knows where, in the body of who knows whom. And the very worst part of the whole thing? She was, apparently, a bright, orange ginger.

 

She did the only reasonable thing she could think of. She started walking in the opposite direction of the road that Sam had gone, and every time she heard a vehicle approach, she stuck out her thumb. It was only a matter of time.


	15. Cold Running

When Sam got back to the bunker, he didn't know what to expect. He found the Impala in its usual parking space in the garage, engine already cooling off. Dean, however, is nowhere to be found. Sam knocked on his bedroom door, only to hear silence in return. He thought about calling out to Castiel, but stopped himself. Cas had been pretty scarce since Charlie's death; he saw him coming and going from Dean's room on occasion, but that had been it. And Sam was afraid that if he got too close to Cas, that the angel would be able to sense that there was something wrong, something very wrong, about him. He could hide the effects of the demon's blood that Rowena had given him from Dean, but not from Castiel.

Sam decided to shower and then make himself something to eat. On his way back from the showers, he heard voices coming from the kitchen; he stopped to listen.

"Dean, how do you know it was Ruby?"

"I don't know, but Sam did, and he was pretty damn sure about. And, I'm telling you, Cas, they vanished right in front of me. The next time I see that demon bitch, I'm not gonna hesitate. I will fuckin' gank her."

I agree, Dean. How do you suggest we find them?" 

"I don't know, a locator spell? Wait, it, it's not them, Cas, it's just her, Sammy had nothing to do with it, she just took him along for the ride."

"How can you be sure, Dean?" Castiel said, stepping close to Dean. "Do you have any idea what your brother has been doing?"

"Yeah, I know he fucked up, he knows he fucked up. Charlie was..."

"No, Dean." Castiel cut him off. "You have no idea what Sam has been 'up to', as you like to say. Sam has started drinking demon's blood again."

"That's bullshit, Cas. He would never do that again, and you know it!"

"I know no such thing. I do know that I smelled it on him about a week before Charlie was killed."

"Impossible," Dean said, his voice breaking. 

"Dean, we have to stop him, we have to stop both of them before they..."

 

Sam backed up and silently slipped into his room. He began to pack a bag with the barest essentials that he would need to be on the road for, well, he didn't know how long. He went to the garage and took the keys to the most innocuous looking vehicle there, a beige late 90s POS, and left the comfort and security of the bunker, heading in the direction he last saw Ruby.


	16. Running on Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Charl, um, Ruby, on the road again.

Running on empty  
It didn't take Sam very long to catch up with Ruby, there were no other vehicles on the road, and she had had no luck hitchhiking. 

Ruby heard the little Ford POS approach from the road behind her and, without looking back, she stuck out her thumb.

Sam knew that if she got a look at him, she would bolt, so he came to a rough stop several yards in front of her, cutting her off in a cloud of dirt and dust. He jumped out of the car and put his hands up in a pathetic sign of trust.

“Ruby, get in the car,” he pleaded with her.

“Fuck off, moose,” she said, continuing to walk on the opposite side of the ugly little beige car. She passed the Ford and continued down the side of the road.

“Ruby,” he ran to her, grabbing her shoulders.

“What part of fuck off do you not understand, you giant ass?”

“Dean, he, he doesn't understand, and Cas, I think he just wants to kill us, both of us!” He held on to her, making it clear he was not letting go without a fight.

“Oh, Sam, I didn't know you cared,” she swooned, mocking his concern. “But seriously, why should I trust you?”

“I'm running, Ruby, and I won't leave you behind, so get in the fucking car. Please, Ruby.” 

Yeah, she would get in the car, he would be good for getting her the hell out of Kansas, at the very least. 

They had been driving for several hours, and had barely spoken to each other. Sam could hardly stand to even look at Ruby, sitting there in Charlie’s body, like she owned it. Part of him, the part that missed missed Charlie so damn much, wanted to believe Ruby, when she said she had nothing to do with choosing this particular body to inhabit. But he knew better. She had deceived him before, and very convincingly. But still…

And then there was the faint smell of sulfur in the car. Of course, he didn't like it, but, it did something to him, affected him in ways he didn't want to admit to. Being so close to Charlie's body, and the smell of burnt matches coming off of her, he remembered the raw power of the blood when Ruby had let him drink it from her. And he still felt the buzz, fading now, from the stale blood that Rowena had given him to drink. He hated it, despised himself for the arousal his body was responding with, to all of these sensations.

He stole glances at Ruby out of the corner of his eye as she mindlessly stared out the window, watching the flat, unchanging landscape pass them by. There was something off about her, and not just, Charlie’s body possessed by a demon off, but something just not right that he couldn't put his finger on.

There was a light sheen of sweat on Ruby’s face, and she had been squirming uncomfortably in her seat for at least ten miles or so. She began to feel an unfamiliar discomfort in her abdomen. Suddenly, her stomach gave a loud growl.

“The hell was that?” Sam looked at her in disbelief.

“I, I don't know, I think I'm hungry, and I kinda gotta pee!”

“Don't fuck with me, Ruby, that's not even possible!”

“No, Sam, I'm not sure about the hungry part, but I'm telling you, stop now, cus I definitely have to pee!”

Sam pulled the car over, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, as he watched Ruby jump out and make a mad dash to the low scrubby cover of bushes by the side of the road.

A few minutes later, she came back to the car and climbed in, cursing under her breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome.


End file.
